


Patron Saint of Debauchery

by Oldine



Series: Birches Grow [2]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-02-18
Packaged: 2018-09-25 10:05:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 15,111
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9814625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oldine/pseuds/Oldine
Summary: A young man flees from a cult in Africa believing that Jack Harkness is in imminent danger. His actions trigger a series of events he never could have predicted.





	1. Chapter 1

**Gout de Paris; Doula, Cameroon**

Colin Doyle was determined to keep his promise.

Fleeing Nigeria had been an experience. Poor and desperate meant different things in different places. Keara, another escapee like himself, had been a godsend. Money had been their biggest obstacle. With her gift, they acquired enough to cross the border into Cameroon and reach the port city of Doula.

The cafe was one of Keara’s many accomplishments. She spoke enough French to make arrangements. It had small backrooms with no listening devices. They’d been hiding for days. When the owner realized Keara could provide information on various aspects of local crime, he accepted information instead of money. The arrangement kept them safely hidden and fed.

Everyday, Colin entered the same trance he’d use to track Jack Harkness for the Fellowship. For hours he watched. When Keara brought him out of it, he took notes. He knew the answer had to be there. He’d been right.

Colin blinked, ending the remote-viewing session.

“You found something?” Keara sounded as tired as he felt. She sat in the corner with her knees pulled to her chest. The cult had been good for her. Better than dealing with criminals and hiding in a dingy room without windows. He wondered more than once if it would have been better to leave her behind.

“You had a dream about Charon, the ferryman.” He wondered at the time if it meant something.

“Yeah.”

Colin stood and stretched. “Are you sure it was the land of the dead?”

“Uh.” Keara rubbed her eyes. “Where else would Charon be other than ferrying people over the Styx into Hades?”

More than once, she’d complained her ability was defective, and he’d tried to explain it worked differently.

“Describe him.”

Keara focused on the memory. “Small, elderly, Asian.”

“An Asian man in a dream about Greek mythology?”

“You have a better idea?”

Colin smiled. “Bobby Zhao also known as the Ferryman. He’s not in Hades, but its close to Hell.”

“Where?”

“Wales.”

Keara looked confused. “I’m missing something.”

“Jack met with him. The Ferryman was transporting genetic experimentation victims from a coastal area near Cardiff to an off-shore freighter.”

“We can’t go to Wales. The Prophet expects us to go home. If we return to Great Britain, he will find us.”

Colin wished he could reassure her. The Prophet collected and brainwashed psychics. It was a matter of time before he found them no matter where they went.

 

**Rosslare to Fishguard Ferry Port; Cardiff, Wales**

Traveling from Africa to Ireland by freighter and then to Wales by ferry gave Colin Doyle time to relive his mistakes. Three years earlier, he’d been a London university student participating in a silly research study on psychic abilities. An easy way to earn credits and some pocket money, he’d thought. When the project started, he hadn’t believed in any of it. Part way through the first tests, the researchers’ attitude towards him changed. They hadn’t expected an actual psychic.

Movies depicted psychics as being able to predict the future. They helped law enforcement solve mysteries. Whereas remote-viewing was a concept on conspiracy websites. Websites he should have paid more attention to. They talked about exploitation and manipulation.

At twenty-two, he’d been a cocky young man who believed he understood the world. Miracle Day was something strange that happened in his childhood. The Doctor, Torchwood and aliens were oddities that didn’t matter to him. He’d been naive, arrogant and outright stupid.

When Tasi Reynolds’ approached, representing the Fellowship of Inner Peace, he believed her. He should have asked himself why an incredibly smart, beautiful woman was interested in him. He should have asked a lot of questions. Instead, he believed all her lies. Even when she told him the Fellowship was in Nigeria, he simply accepted it.

Since than, he wondered if her ability involved convincing people to do things no rational person would. Youth and arrogance could explain why he boarded a plane for Africa with a woman he barely knew. There was no explanation for why he stayed after realizing it was a church or really a cult. The entire path from naivety to acolyte perplexed him after he broke free.

The brainwashing, which he had no other term for, started immediately. Within months, he genuinely believed in the Prophet and everything the epic con man was selling. When it came time to take vows, he readily agreed and spoke them with sincerity. A scam that ironically resulted in him learning the truth and escaping.

During his childhood, he been told that God worked in mysterious ways. He wasn’t sure what he believed anymore, but he believed that. He’d been tasked by evil men to bear witness to a divine being, and later learned the being was eternal but probably not divine. That epiphany shattered the illusion.

Months later, the glorified stalker returned to his homeland to deliver a warning. He couldn’t simply walk up to the being and issue it. Captain Harkness wouldn’t believed it. Time would be wasted trying to prove the truth.

“Its a beautiful day.” Keara trailed behind him. She’d been one of the youngest recruits at the Fellowship. “It looks so different.”

Rumor had it the Prophet bought her. She said he’d saved her, but something about the way she said it made him wonder. He never saw any indication the Prophet took advance of young women. Other rumors said he was gay. Colin believed it. Idrissa was more than an acolyte.

“Where to?” Colin asked. Unlike him, Keara’s ability was a lot more than spying on someone from a distance.

“Lunch.”

In a way, he was back where he started from, following behind a beautiful woman. The difference was Keara didn’t flirt. Her manipulations were different. She told him the truth and the consequences. He would protect the being, but he would died in the process. He’d reviewed the situation himself and come to the same conclusion.

 

**Coffi Chwerthinllyd**

Colin called Felda Eiermann as they made their way to small coffee house. Small, and soft spoken, she was easily underestimated. They met during freshman orientation. He wasn’t certain on his long term academic goals. She wanted to earn duel doctorates degrees in computers and engineering. A scandal involving an affair with a professor resulted in her being expelled. After Brexit, she was in the country illegally. She didn’t have a home to go back to.

He’s spoken to her a few times since he left Nigeria. With what he had in mind, he needed her skills. He’d been careful with what he said over the phone, but she understood.

“Nice place.” Felda joined them at the table in the back.

The name and the menu items were in Welsh. He’d asked if there was a translation and the clerk laughed. He assumed they were some type of joke.

“It’s good to see you.” He would have offered her a hug, but she wasn’t the type. She believed hugging was for women who cared about shoe sales and salons.

Felda nodded. “I found a place for you to stay. Its not much. But no one pays attention to their neighbors.”

“Good.”

“We need to find a quiet place.” Colin suspected she meant a place without cameras or listening devices. “I want to know all about your _vacation_.” She then looked at Keara. “I hope your new friend is more reliable than the last one I saw you with.”

“Yes.”


	2. Chapter 2

**St. David’s Dewi Sant Mall; Cardiff, Wales**

**Monday, September 16, 2019**

John Hart felt ridiculous.

Late morning at the mall meant stay-at-home moms and childcare providers. A young girl peaked at him from around her mother’s legs. He waved and she smiled shyly. The contemporary business clothes meant he blended and if anyone asked, he could explain why he wasn’t at a job during any part of the day. Shopping for a child’s present felt even stranger. After everything he’d experienced, being intimidated by a Disney store was embarrassing.

Ken eyed him as he walked into the store. His friend was even attractive in an Easter egg purple polo shirt, name tag, and black trousers.

“Can I help you?” Ken’s eyes said he wasn’t happy to see him at work. Or maybe he wasn’t happy to see him at all.

“My friend’s niece is sick. I need to find a get-well present.”

“How old?” He sounded skeptical.

“Ten. She likes horses.”

“Unicorns? Pegasus?”

He couldn’t remember if she liked fantasy horses. “Arabians. Mustangs.”

“Wrong store.” He walked over to the counter and wrote something down. He named a nearby stores. “They have realistic figurines and videos about horseback riding.”

John lowered his voice to a whisper. “Any suggestions where I might find a ride?”

“I’m at work.”

John wondered what the problem was. Ken wasn’t in the closet, and he wasn’t making a scene. “Thanks.”

Outside the store, he read the note. It recommended a store, and had two quick messages: no personal conversations at work and you didn’t call me back.

John added a quick reminder to his mobile. He hadn’t called Ken back because he felt guilty. Then he forgot. The guilt was as ridiculous as feeling apprehensive about walking through a mall. He’d proposed less than two months ago, but the woman he loved was gone. She wouldn’t have had a problem with him moving on, and wouldn’t have expected him to wait.

Finding the store added to the stress. He was obligated to a child whose mother hated him. A simple present risked her wrath. He couldn’t explain any of it to Ken which didn’t help. He selected an Arabian figurine and a Clydesdate video. Gwen wouldn’t approve. The idea of leaving it for Anwen to find so Jack could explain it appealed. John smiled at that.

 

**Blodau Glas Academy**

Anwen Williams entered school happy to be back. Another sick day and she was wondering if the side effects would ever go away. Wynne and Teleri walked over as she stowed her backpack. As expected, Wynne gave her a hug and Teleri eyed her.

“What’s wrong _this_ time?” Teleri was skeptical. She couldn’t blame her friend. She’d been sick off and on since the ship in the Rift situation and all she could tell anyone was bad headaches. Which was true. But a ten year-old with headaches that bad sounded questionable. Especially since it was a new problem.

“I took your advice and listened to that new CD. I had a migraine all weekend.”

“Are you all right?” Wynne asked.

“Yep.” Eventually.

Teleri crossed her arms. “You’d tell us if you were skipping school.”

“Yep.”

A weird feeling started as she talked to them. At first, she wondered if it was another side effect. When she walked toward the water fountain, her wrist-strap vibrated. Which she guessed meant contaminated water. No one looked sick. She tried checking it in the bathroom but the results didn’t make sense. If she understood what it tried to tell her, and it was bad, she would contacted Uncle Jack for help. If she made the call, and was wrong, she’d not only look stupid, she would have wasted a lot of time. Jack might evacuate the school.

Frustrated, she realized she’d forgotten a book. She returned to her locker. The bell rang. She was late. Annoyed, she turned, intending to head to class. Another student was still in the hallway halfway down. He staggered and fell. Anwen ran. With no one looking, she crouched down next to him and opened her wrist-strap. “Medical scan boy.” She didn’t know if that would work. She’d seen Jack use his except most of what he did was manual.

“Needs immediate medical attention,” the computerize voice responded.

“John Hart.”

“Hey.”

“I am next to a boy having trouble breathing. I think it’s an allergy. His neck and face are swollen. Can you tell?”

“Remote medscan range.” John paused. “He’s having a life-threatening allergy. Check his pockets for an injector pen or a syringe of some kind.”

Anwen padded his pockets. After witnessing a heart attack at the mall last year, she’d asked her mother about basic first aid. They’d taken a class together. The information was coming back. “I have to inject his thigh?”

“Yeah. Through his pants.”

“It’s working.”

“Get help. He needs an ambulance. The medication might wear off.”

A door down the hall opened as she was closing her wrist strap. She yelled. Mrs. Sagona the librarian came running. Anwen quickly explained what happened.

“How did you know?”

“My mom works in law enforcement. Swollen face, swollen neck.” Anwen realized at that moment she would have acted faster without having an option to ask for help.

 

**Torchwood Three**

Gwen Cooper wondered at her life sometimes. Sitting in the conference room reviewing police reports was a relief. She needed something, anything, less stressful than her sick daughter and cranky husband. The mundane reports helped. But added nothing to their investigation into Moss-Probert. With the witnesses smuggled out of the country by necessity, and the captors killed, they needed new information.

Jack stepped into the doorway with Ianto standing behind him. “Andy Davidson called.”

Gwen looked up from her laptop. “Andy called you?”

“You told him Anwen was sick again on Saturday. He didn’t know if she was feeling better.”

“When are we leaving?” She shut down her computer.

“Now.”

Gwen’s mobile rang as she followed Jack out. She wondered if Andy was calling until she checked the screen. It was her daughter’s school. Her heart started racing. “Hello.”

“Mrs. Williams?”

“Yes.”

“I’m Jilly Whitley the school nurse at Blodau Glas. Your daughter is okay, but she had a rough morning.” She explained. “Anwen insists she’s okay. I think someone should pick her up.”

“I need a bit to make arrangements.”

“She’s here in the nurse’s office.”

“Thank you.”

Jack asked. “What happened?”

Gwen explained.

“I can go to the school,” Ianto offered.

“Are you sure?” She’d asked him to babysit too many times already.

“Yep.”

Jack lowered his voice. “He’s afraid of field work.”

“You can take my car. I’ll call the school back.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Ddideimlad Flats; Cardiff, Wales**

Gwen Cooper’s thoughts were still on Anwen as Jack parked the Torchwood van near the front of Ddideimlad Flats. The decrepit building offered cheap housing for the desperate. Local law enforcement visited the place regularly for various reasons. She’d seen the inside once while she was a constable.

“Rhys complains our building is soulless.”

“Ianto’s working on it.”

She felt guilty. Since returning, Ianto had taken a long list of maintenance complaints about the flats and watched the kids any time there was a problem. He was still dealing with an unimaginable personal trauma. She had no right ask so much.

“What floor?” She followed Jack into the building. The inside looked worse than she remembered it.

“Fourth.”

Jack walked passed the lift, heading for the stairs.

“Great.”

The enclosed space smelled. Gwen wrinkled her nose not wanting to think about it. It explained why Jack wasn’t interested in the lift. The building had maintenance problems.

“Why are we here?”

“Colin Doyle was found in the Taff River near Sophia Gardens yesterday. Possible suicide. Dr. Floyd has doubts.”

“And?”

“The police say Doyle’s flat has a shrine.”

Gwen groaned. “I’m guessing he’s not Catholic.”

Jack laughed, but didn’t explain.

Exiting the disgusting stairway was a relief. The fourth floor hallway didn’t look much better. It smelled less, at least.

The constable guarding the door let them into Doyle’s one-bedroom flat. From the looks of it, Doyle slept on the floor in the main room. Jack crossed headed for the bedroom as she shut the door behind them, and stopped in the doorway.

Gwen crossed the room. “It better not be black candles and a goat’s head.”

“Much better looking.” He stepped aside as she reached him.

“No goat.” She said, amused. “An ass.” Pictures of Jack covered the walls. Some depicted Jack like a Catholic saint.

The room held impressive computer equipment, and a few items she suspected were alien.

“A schizophrenic with a religion obsession fixating on a person.” He’d seen a lot of things over the years, but he hadn’t been worshiped.

“The patron saint of debauchery.” Gwen chuckled.

Jack walked around the equipment and sorted through a pile of sketchbooks in the corner. “He dates the back of his sketches.” He crouched near a pile of sketchbooks. “I doubt a schizophrenic stalker can function for years.”

“I can ask Dr. Floyd to recommend someone who would know.”

“Good.” Jack grabbed one of the books.

Gwen’s mobile rang. She listened. “Thanks, Andy.” Jack had told him to contact her again. “Doyle died from injuries consistent with jumping off a bridge. Except he has defensive wounds. It’s not conclusive, but he had help going off the bridge.”

“Did Andy send a picture.”

“Yeah.” Gwen brought it up on her phone. “Another psychotic ex-boyfriend?”

Jack checked the picture. “No. I’ve never met him.” He held up a sketchbook. “Most of these are labeled Africa.”

Gwen stepped back into the main room. “If this guy was obsessed with Catholicism, where’s his Bible? There’s no cross on the walls. No prayer books.” She continued to look around. “Is there anything in there?”

“No.” Jack stepped out of the bedroom.

“This isn’t about religion.”

 

**Near Blodau Glas Academy**

More and more, John Hart found himself questioning the situation. He loved her more than anything, and continued wearing the ring he offered her on a chain around his neck. But she was gone. He’d destroyed any chance of reconnecting with Jack. Lovers were easy enough to find. Eventually, he would make local friends. The loneliness was overwhelming at times.

Resigned, he parked a few blocks from the school. The situation would give him an opportunity to test his new computer system. He modified a mainframe, with instructions and equipment he brought with him, and had a dedicated tablet. Between it and his wrist-strap, he had the computing power necessary to investigate complicated problems.

He grabbed the portable computer, from the passenger seat and nearly knocked Anwen’s present on the floor. With sigh, he stepped out of the car. He had a promise to honor, and would as long as he could.

There was nothing immediately worrisome. The residential neighborhood looked like any other. One garage had some type of alien device being used a generator. From the heat signature, he guessed it was growing plants. Exotic plants, drugs or both. After a moment’s hesitated, he forwarded the details to Torchwood. A drug lab within blocks of Anwen’s school might earn him consideration.

He found nanotechnology closer to the school. It led to a fire hydrant, and a higher concentration. The water was contaminated. He couldn’t fix it, he’d have to leave that to Jack, but he could document it. The computer was compiling the upload to Torchwood as he returned to the car.

John glanced at a passing car, and recognized a face he never wanted to see again. He checked for CCTV in the area and found video of the car and driver. Kol Puzzo. It didn’t take much to connect contaminated water to Puzzo. He couldn’t just send the information. There was a lot more to it.

“Jack Harkness,” John said to his wrist-strap.

“What?”

“Did Anwen mention contacting me about a medical emergency?”

“No.”

“A remote scan indicated nanotechnology. I found the area water contaminated, and sent it to Torchwood.” John paused. “I am uploading an image from CCTV footage now. Kol Puzzo. He’s a third generation biomech.” He exhaled. “The real problem is who he takes orders from. After being forced out of Torchwood for creating an army, Aman Oliveira disappeared. The boss and general were concerned future you wouldn’t accept the evidence against him.” John hesitated. “They were right. Aman probably doesn’t know future you got into a fist fight with the general over the execution order.”

“Does he have any connection to religion or Africa?”

“Yeah, why?”

“A current Torchwood case,” Jack explained.

“Oliveira ran a Torchwood office in Nigeria.”

“How did I know him?”

John explained, “You were lovers off and on for twenty years.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Hughes Flats; Cardiff, Wales**

Ianto Jones marveled at Gwen’s daughter some days. The ten year-old dealt with everything from family conflict to aliens to saving another child’s life. Anwen shrugged it off. He couldn’t help but wonder if it was Jack’s influence. Or the universe’s way of ensuring she could cope with her connection to the Rift.

As he should have expected, Anwen settled in at the kitchen table with her laptop. If watching a classmate nearly die affected her, she was keeping it to herself. Which wasn’t surprising.

“Do you need anything?”

“No. I’m fine. If I want something, I can find it. Thanks for rescuing me from the nurse’s office.”

Unsure if that was good or bad, Ianto headed for Jack’s office. He slipped off his suit jacket and folded it on the desk before removing his shoulder holster. Continually carrying a gun was starting to feel normal. He switched on a laptop and grabbed a notepad and pen. With Anwen safely home, he had Doyle-related police reports to review. Two PO Box locations had rentals listed in Colin Doyle’s name. Each unit had been emptied in the passed two days. Except CCTV confirmed it wasn’t Doyle.

Unsure of where else to start, he checked lists of customers. Dewi Sant stood out. While it wasn’t impossible for someone to be named after Saint David, it made him wonder. He pulled up the application information, and checked the details. They were fake. Colin Doyle had drawn pictures of Jack depicting him as a saint. There was a possible connection. Comparing the customer lists to names of Catholic saints resulted in several more. All but one didn’t exist. The police determined Doyle arrived in Wales by ferry from Ireland. Ianto compared his arrival date to the PO box rentals. It was possible.

He called Jack.

“Morning.”

Ianto explained about the rentals. “I’m sending the list.”

“Thanks.”

He realized he forgot something earlier. “Did Gwen mention she asked if we would babysit this weekend?”

Jack spoke to Gwen in the background.

“No, Ianto,” Gwen said, “I asked if you’d mind two more kids for the weekend.”

“Hey,” Jack said.

Ianto smiled. “They behave better.”

Gwen laughed.

“Enough.”

“Should I get anything before than, Gwen?”

“Crayons.”

“No. Jack’s not allowed near wax.”

Gwen was laughing when the call ended.

 

**Ddideimlad Flats**

Keara Montfort sat cross-legged on her bedroll thinking. In the shadow of Colin’s death, she needed to hold on to something. She knew the Fellowship would kill him. She’d seen it. Colin insisted he had to put things right. Even knowing the future at times didn’t keep her from being surprised. Without Colin explaining the situation, the visions were confusing. Even some of what Colin did explain didn’t make sense.

The school scare had an unexpected participant. Colin explained the technology was harmless but would expose the Prophet as he tried to cover his ass. It went as planned. The school closure even helped. But what she couldn’t figure out was the child’s protector. John Hart was a mercenary of some kind. Colin described him as a hedonist that collected addictions. He’d left Cardiff years earlier at odds with Jack. There was nothing to explain his connection to the child.

Then she sensed the man creeping up the back stairway. One of the Prophet’s soldiers. The real assassin was masked somehow. She closed her eyes on focused inward. When her third eye opened she assessed her escape routes starting with the fire escape. A woman dressed in tattered clothes waited in the alley. Her thoughts were masked. She pictured the front stairway and young man was lounging near the door. He was wearing a happy expression attempting to appear drunk; he was masked. She needed another option.

Colin left her a small chest of alien artifacts. One looked like brass knuckles and shimmered like the inside of a clam shell. She grabbed the few things she could carry, stuffing them quickly into a duffel back, including the artifacts. He explained she had to visualize her destination. She immediately thought of her grandmother’s church as a child. She hated it. She focused on the backroom. It was clear. She slipped the device over her fingers and a portal opened. Keara stepped through.

 

**Torchwood Three**

Jack Harkness sat in his office wondering about the continuing changes, and if he’d misunderstood the motivation behind returning Ianto and the hub. He originally assumed it had something to do with family conflict. According to John, and his information had been solid so far, Anwen’s motivation was prevention. There could be a lot more to it.

“I think this is about a cult.” Gwen sat on the floor with papers from one of Doyle’s rentals. She read from a piece of parchment paper. “By the time you read this, Jack, I will be dead. An accident or suicide. One less nutter in the world. But it’s not that simple. The threat against you is real even if everything I was led to believe is not. My task was to protect an eternal saint. An angel who voluntarily gave up his wings to protect the Earth. I was stupid. I believed the Prophet when he said I was special. But I learned. I’m not sure what, or if, I believe in anything anymore. But I have seen proof that you are eternal and here to protect Earth. There is no redemption for what I’ve done. I recruited people to this evil faith. I led sheep to the slaughter. But I can shine a light on this darkness. Your loyal acolyte, Colin.”

Which could be unpredictable. The lack of religious items and books in Colin’s flat suggested the situation wasn’t about religion. But it involved religion somehow.

“Does that make sense?”

“No.”

While Gwen focused on tracking Doyle’s movements with her tablet, he opened one of the young man’s journals. From the sounds of it, Colin Doyle was tasked with tracking his movements. He wasn’t sure how Doyle managed it. The young man had been convinced he was a divine being. Which led him to question established religion.

Gwen interrupted. “Jack, I might have something.”

He looked up.

“Nigeria or a part of Nigeria was under British control until 1960. According to archives,a small Torchwood office was established in the 1930s because of unusual and potentially alien artifacts found in the region. The office was officially closed when control was transferred to local government.”

“It’s still there?”

“Possibly. The Torchwood Institute in London coordinated regional offices. When it was destroyed, the offices became independent.”

Jack waited.

“The Nigerian office was located in some type of stronghold which now belongs to the Fellowship of Inner Peace. The group calls themselves a religious retreat and offers no details on their website. Interpol lists them as a cult that recruits impressionable young people world-wide.”

“Any firsthand accounts?”

“One. A young woman was found injured by missionaries, and determined to be mentally ill. While delirious she kept asking for the Prophet and saying she was a scribe of God. A representative of the Fellowship arrived, claiming to be next of kin. The woman went with him willingly.”

“Doyle was obsessively tracking me. He realized his surveillance wasn’t religious, and became convinced the Prophet intended to destroy me.” Separating possible fact from fantasy was tiring. “He talks about the Prophet turning men into servants of Death and collecting souls.”

“If the Prophet is creating an army of modified humans…”

“I thought of that.” Jack rubbed his face.

“What does any of this have to do with the water around Anwen’s school?”

“I don’t know. UNIT took it off-line and stationed guards.” They were calling it a terrorist attack. Although there was no evidence the contamination was dangerous.


	5. Chapter 5

**Near Hughes Flats; Cardiff, Wales**

Hours of reviewing news reports and puzzling over the water contamination at Anwen’s school left John Hart tired and weary. Large amounts of stress and no downtime weren’t healthy. John checked his watch. He needed to call Ken. Having someone was definitely healthier than spending all of his time alone. He hesitated, knowing he needed to explain the demons he was fighting. Ken knew he was a recovering addict, and had asked about the ring. Telling him the truth while omitting time travel and Torchwood was complicated.

I miss you, he thought, touching the ring through his shirt. Guilt and regret were almost foreign to him previously. It made him wonder about karma at times.

“Hello?” Ken answered on the third ring sounding tired.

“Forgive me?”

“Maybe.”

“Interested in going out tonight?”

“What did you have in mind?”

John struggled to remember the name of the club where they met. “Mirage. Meet around seven?”

“Yeah.”

When the call ended, John looked around the lifeless house. Ken had commented on it. He had no interest in decorating. He could afford nicer furnishings. Improving the place might help him and the relationship.

 

**Fellowship of Inner Peace; Nigeria, Africa**

Aman Oliveira walked through Torchwood Nigeria, it’s familiar walls and floors helped. Everything he’d built and accomplished were lost in time. Anwen Williams’ ignorance and self-righteousness cost him everything. The Fellowship was not the same. He’d taken a page from her playbook and surrounded himself with psychics, determined Torchwood would not blindside him again.

He accepted the message at his desk. Chas appeared on-screen. “I confirmed John Hart is in Wales. I tracked his movements back to St. David’s Mall with security cameras.” He sounded puzzled.

“Why was he there?”

“He bought a present for a child. A toy horse and a video.”

Which more than suggested Ms. Williams sent her attack dog back to protect her younger self. There were rumors she’d been romantically involved with Hart. He could see the appeal. From what Jack had said about him, though, he couldn’t imagine Hart functioning off his leash for long.

“Get rid of him. Bribing him is easier than killing him.”

Aman sat back in his chair and rubbed his temples. Puzzo’s report was equally puzzling. He’d been checking out a possible drug producer when he spotted Hart. He had no idea how the drug had reached Wales already. From his previous experience, it should have been a minor problem in Africa in 2019. He’d destroyed local production, intending to prevent it from spreading.

Idrissa stepped into the doorway. “Tasi and her team is confident you need to approach Captain Harkness. The Moss-Probert situation is escalating.”

“I will be all right.” Aman motioned him into the office.

“I can’t lose you.”

“Take my hand.”

Idrissa did, looking upset.

“There are no guarantees in life. We can only do what needs to be done.” He gently squeezed his hand. “If something goes wrong, there are hidden accounts and a safe house in Brazil.”

“We could walk away. Torchwood betrayed you.”

Aman stood. “Without this network, without this army, the world will burn. If I thought of no one but myself, I would be no better than my father.”

Idrissa touched his face. “Torchwood will be your death.”

“Yes.”

 

**Mirage; Cardiff, Wales**

Sitting in Mirage with a cola and his back to the wall told John Hart more about himself than he wanted to know. The colorful lights and beautiful people should have appealed. Dancing and drinking stopped feeling normal at some point. The desire was there.

As was the guilt. He touched the ring under his shirt. If his life had stayed on track, he’d have been planning a wedding or already married. While she hadn’t outright said it, she’d talked about the world orphan problem. His wedding fantasy involved adoption. Somewhere in the five years they’d been together, his entire world view changed.

His thoughts were interrupted by a man moving through the crowd toward him. The man’s body language contrasted his surroundings, making him stand out.

“Captain Hart.” He stopped at the bar. “I’m Chas. Torchwood Nigeria.” The dark-skinned man had an unfamiliar accent.

“And?”

“Oliveira has an offer. A casino, resort, brothel or combination in South America or Asia. You could own it. Or just live there. Your choice.”

“Why would Oliveira care? I burned my bridges with Torchwood here.”

Chas looked less than convinced. “Then why are you in Cardiff?”

“Step 9. Make amends.” John sipped his drink.

“Rehab? You’re an alcoholic in a bar.”

“I’m a recovering alcoholic in a club. Five years.” He held up his drink. “No alcohol.”

“Oliveira doesn’t want problems.”

“Then he needs to talk to Jack. This is Jack’s territory.”

“I’m trying to do this the easy way.” Chas paused. “We know about Russia.”

“That’s one of us.”

Chas considered him. “Percy Heitt?”

“Of Moss-Probert?” General Thomas took out Heitt somewhere in Asia.

“Percy Heitt was executed last month in Russia.”

“Wasn’t me.” Which made him wonder if Jack did it. Threatening Ianto and Gwen’s kids were enough to make him that mad.

After Chas left, he considered sending Ken a message and meeting somewhere else. It was pointless. If Aman Oliveira wanted to track him, he could. It didn’t matter where he met Ken. Anything he did to protect either of them wouldn’t guarantee anything.

 

**Fellowship of Inner Peace; Liverpool, England**

Agitated, Chas drove back to the facility to determine the next course of action. Bribing Hart should have been simple. The story about rehab was ridiculous, but sounded true. The psychopath might be trying for redemption.

“All demons inside,” the computer system said.

“Computer, run diagnostic.”

“Authorization fail.” He heard a confusing sound. The facility was going into lock down. “Fellowship of Inner Peace,” Colin’s voice came from the computer speakers, “I learned the truth. The Prophet is a liar, manipulator and fiend.” Pause. “Aman Oliveira, a self-proclaimed savior enslaving souls and devouring the righteous.”

Some type of countdown started.

“By killing me, you set in motion what cannot be undone. I came to the Fellowship a deluded, but honest acolyte. I took my vows seriously. To protect the angel, the divine being for whom I am scribe, I will be faithful and loyal in death. And in his name I smite thee.”

The explosion leveled the Fellowship facility and the abandoned buildings around it, destroying a city block.


	6. Chapter 6

**Hughes Flats; Cardiff, Wales**

**Tuesday, September 17, 2019**

Jack Harkness stared at the ceiling, an outdoor security light dimly illuminating the bedroom through window facing the backyard. Ianto’s head was on his shoulder and had an arm extended across Jack’s chest. Jack lightly ran his fingers down Ianto’s arm. At some point, he needed to collect the bedding off the floor. A single sheet covered them. The room’s chill was noticeable after the heat wore off.

“Whose Corey?” Ianto sounded sleepy and worried.

“A former lover. Why?”

“Another letter arrived in the post.” Ianto hesitated. “There’s a box of them in the office.”

“It’s an invitation to an art gallery showing.” Jack paused a moment. “He’s an event planner.”

“Does he know about me?”

“Yes.” Jack kissed the top of Ianto’s head. “We’re just friends. Corey likes older men in positions of power. Conservative. Closeted. He keeps their secrets and they buy him presents.”

“I’m sorry.”

“No.” Jack turned on his side and lightly pushed Ianto back. “I would have opened your mail.” Jack kissed him.

They were wrapped around each other when his mobile rang. Reluctantly, he reached for the phone. “Harkness.”

“Jack.” Gwen sounded like she’d been woken up. “I’ve gotten three phone calls in the last twenty minutes. Liverpool, Sheffield and Birmingham law enforcement. Controlled detonations of three buildings with unusual religious connections. All three were occupied. The explosion in Liverpool leveled a city block.”

Jack sat up.

“Colin Doyle had messages sent to all three police departments with lists of crimes and outstanding warrants. He said they were in league with a false prophet and he purified them. Major media outlets reported receiving a manifesto about demons, eternal beings and divine retribution.”

 

**Near Hughes Flats; Cardiff, Wales**

A mainframe wrist-strap notification woke him. John Hart leaned across the bed and kissed Ken lightly. “Go back to sleep.”

He grabbed his tablet dedicated to the mainframe and headed for the kitchen. He started the coffee pot, and sat at the kitchen table. A seismic oddity triggered one of his mainframe’s presets. He quickly read the details. It sounded more like a bomb than an earthquake.

The media reported three simultaneous explosions in different cities. The targets were religious and seemingly unconnected. Terrorism was being tossed around, but no one could explain why the terrorists with the ability to level a square block would focus on such a small number of people. First the contaminated water and then explosions. Someone was making a statement, and he doubted it was simple terrorism.

He quickly programmed the mainframe for searches. There had to be a connection among the buildings. Jack asked if Oliveira had any connection to religion. John added a search for a Nigeria connection. Then he added a Moss-Probert search just to be safe.

His mobile rang. “Hart.”

“Where are you?”

He should have known Jack would call. As far as he knew, he was the last person to blow up multiple United Kingdom targets in one night.

“In my kitchen drinking coffee.” And doing your job.

“A dead man blew up three buildings tonight.”

John then remembered Chas, and explained. “Oliveira thinks I’m a threat. Which makes no sense.”

Ken wandered into the kitchen wearing only his pant. “What time is it?” He yawned.

“0200.”

“Whose with you?” Jack asked.

“A friend.”

Ken glanced over after pouring a cup of coffee.

“Are you sober?”

“Not that its your business.” Jack’s self-righteousness annoyed him. “But yes.”

Ken carried his mug over to the table. John reached out and lightly rubbed his leg.

“Fourteen people died tonight. I need to know how many you recognize.”

“In exchange for what?” John couldn’t help the tone. Jack pushed his buttons.

“You claim to work for Torchwood.”

“I do. Different office. Different boss.”

“John.” Jack sounded exasperated. “Your boss is ten years old.”

“You call me at in the middle of the night, insult me and make demands. You want to give me orders, I want back in.”

“No.”

John ended the call.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” John leaned over and kissed him. “Come back to bed.”

 

**Hughes Flats; Cardiff, Wales**

Jack wondered if he’d resolved Ianto’s concerns. Ianto said nothing during a quick shared shower or as they got dressed. Cory reminded him of Ianto during the lost years. They both wore perfect suits and had an eye for details. The similarity ended there. Cory manipulated everyone around him. Ianto took care of people.

After the conversation with John ended badly, he headed for the kitchen. Ianto was assembling meals to go on the counter. The situation might mean hours of work and no break time.

“Are you all right?”

“Just tired.”

Jack set a hand on his back and leaned on the counter. “I love you. I’m not leaving you.”

“I know.” Ianto sighed. “The paranoia triggers the fear.”

“Do you want to stay here?”

Ianto shook his head slightly. “And let you leave with Gwen unchaperoned in the middle of the night.” He tone said he wasn’t serious.

Jack laughed and mused his hair.

Gwen knocked and let herself into the flat with a key. “No new information. Andy has an update on the drug raid near Anwen’s school. It failed. Someone tipped them off. They found enough to suggest magic mushrooms.” A beat. “999 received a call about the location from an anonymous caller around the time John was out there.”

“Do they know who?”

“No. An adult male with an unusual accent,” Gwen said. “Did you contact Hart?”

“Yeah.” Jack explained.

“Explain this to me, Jack.” Gwen rubbed her face. “Anwen calls and Hart comes running. You call and he tells you to sod off.”

“Anwen’s nice to him,” Ianto said.

Jack suspected there was a lot more to it. Best case scenario, John was trying to hold on to a better time in his life. From experience, John could be obsessive when stressed. Or emotionally involved.

“Liverpool has the most damage. We need to start there.” Jack grabbed his coat from the table. “Gwen focus on law enforcement. Find out if anything else happened tonight that could be connected.” He grabbed his keys from the candy dish on the kitchen counter where Ianto insisted on keeping them. “Ianto I need you to connect with Torchwood and check John’s whereabouts for the last several days.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Forest Farm, Nature Reserve; Cardiff, Wales**

After Ken left to get ready for work, the stress and guilt were too much. John Hart needed to clear his mind. The dark, empty park where he’d met Miriam Morgans and Thomas had been Anwen’s favorite. Security concerns made walks few and far between. She didn’t leave the space station the last two months. It hurt watching her skin pale and the spark leave her eyes. He’d begged her to leave with him. They had enough Varaxi crystals to live like royalty. But she wouldn’t go.

Memories of the last day burned. They’d argued, made up and said good-bye. He’d again asked her why she would sacrifice herself for people who didn’t care about her.

“I’m my mother’s daughter, John. She didn’t start with Torchwood. She started as a constable because she wanted to help people. Whatever was needed to save lives, she did it. Mom once instructed a team member to commit suicide while watching his partner die. She then shot Jack, believing it would kill him, so he didn’t have to kill himself. To save the world.” She paused. “I’m lucky. I’m sacrificing myself and not you.”

He slipped the ring from under his shirt and gripped it against his chest. “I don’t know if I can do this.”

He’d seen a drug dealer on his way to the park and been tempted. But once he went there, he’d go back to what he was. The pain was preferable to betraying her.

 

**Hughes Flats; Cardiff, Wales**

Anwen Williams headed upstairs after breakfast. It wasn’t the first time she’d gone up to get air. The roof was arguably safer than the backyard. No one would ask too many questions. She hated lying.

“Morning.” John sounded tired, reminding her of Ianto on his first day back. Not good.

“It has been decreed. I’m not allowed to talk to you.” The situation was absurd. “I’m used to the male tantrums. Dad. Jack. Trefor at least has a decent excuse.” She paused a moment. “What happened?”

“Nothing you need to worry about.”

Anwen really didn’t like his tone. “Are you all right?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“I know there is more to you being here than what you told me. Maybe I won’t understand. I can guess its some type of screwy time situation. Like Terminator. You were sent back to protect me. You gave up everything you had and risk my uncle’s wrath.” She paused. “You told me a Torchwood woman saved you. Do I really become an adult that could ask this as some type of repayment?”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Nothing is ever simple. I have no right to keep you here. No matter what I asked or did in the future.”

John asked, “Do you know why Reese agreed to protect Sarah Connor?”

“Yeah.”

“Talking about your future is a bad idea.” The call ended.

Anwen was heading back to her flat when she realized she’d misunderstood. John Connor sent his father to protect his mother and ensure he was born. But Reese agreed because he was already in love with her. Which explained a lot. And meant there really wasn’t anything she could do to help him. She could only imagine interacting with her made it worse. A reminder of what he’d lost.

She could only hope when she was head of Torchwood Global, she’d use the same technology to find him and give him a home. Maybe her future self was already working on it. It was the least she could do after everything.

 

**Forest Farm, Nature Reserve; Cardiff, Wales**

When he heard the other person, John Hart pressed his back to a tree. He or she wasn’t trying to hide.

“Captain Hart.” The familiar voice added to the pain and regret. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” She stopped moving. “My name is Keara. Keara Montfort. I was hoping you might know who I am. The Prophet knows I’m here.” She hesitated. “I don’t have money.”

He knew her all right. They’d been lovers before she was killed during a search-and-destroy mission. Unable to escape, she detonated the bomb while still in the building. Four months later, he nearly killed himself unable to cope with her death. Which led to Anwen saving him.

One more horror to relive. At least he could help her. Keara was one of Miriam’s psychics, and needed to go to the Refuge. “Do you have information?”

“Yeah.” Keara moved closer.

When he could see her, she looked very young, and different. The Keara he knew was hard and cynical. Like him, she’d seen and done things most couldn’t understand. He remembered what Keara had said about her childhood. She’d run away at sixteen. By the time she was eighteen, she was working as an escort. The rich and famous who liked young girls. Something had changed that fate.

“We can have breakfast or lunch back at my place.”

She held her hands in front of her duffel back too tightly in front of her and watched the ground.

He reached out to touch her arm and she flinched. “I don’t take advantage of children.”

 

**Near Hughes Flats; Cardiff, Wales**

John really wanted a drink, a real drink, as he poured himself another cup of coffee. He was losing it. He told Anwen the truth. Then he brought Keara home. He was expecting Ken to call. Ken wanted more than one night and was probably trying to change. John could understand that.

“I really appreciate this.” Keara sounded nervous.

“What’s wrong?”

She hesitated. “Why are you being nice to me?”

“Karma. I have a lot to make up for.”

She didn’t understand.

“What can you tell me about The Prophet?”

“He wants to puppet control of the UK. He was working with a local corporation and that ended badly.”

John wondered. “Do you have specifics?”

“The three buildings Colin destroyed were The Prophet’s power base. He’s accumulating contacts and blackmail material. He reportedly had plan B in the Liverpool building. If he can’t get control, he’s going to take out the government.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Leveled Block; Liverpool, England**

The scene was crowded and chaotic as Jack Harkness parked the van near the police barricades. Emergency service vehicles of all kinds lined the street. Local police maintained the sectioned off area. A military vehicle was parked next to the fire chief’s SUV.

Gwen reviewed the van computer screen. “The police department closed the scene. According to firefighters, there is an intact vault in what used to be the basement.” She said. “The area is disrupting cell phones, radios, and other electronics. There is no evidence of radiation.”

“A blogger,” Ianto said, looking at tablet, “Posted possible connections between the destroyed buildings. He also linked them to Moss-Probert.”

“The fire department notified Sheffield and Birmingham. So far, they are not reporting problems.”

“Any survivors?” Jack doubted it. Doyle was determined, and probably not alone.

“No.”

“Coordinate with police and fire. All three cities. We need copies of everything and statements from emergency responders.”

Gwen climbed out of the van.

“How are you?” Jack patted Ianto’s leg.

“Good.”

Jack didn’t believe him, but understood. “I need to check the vault. It could be radioactive.”

Ianto tapped the screen. “Liverpool has a radiation response team available because of the port. The quarantine is awful. Transfer to the London facility would be better.”

“I don’t want you near the vault.”

“I will remote-access Torchwood and compare the buildings’ power usage and suppliers to Moss-Probert.”

Jack reached over and ran his hand through Ianto’s hair. “I never want to risk you again.”

“I don’t mind staying in the van.” Ianto leaned over and kissed him.

Ianto handed him a radiation badge a couple minutes later. He climbed out of the van. Having Ianto at a site remembered him of the 456.

After climbing out of the van, firefighters waved at him. One waited for him near a ladder into the gaping hole that had been a building. Debris had been removed which lead to the discovery.

“There is something not right down there.” The fireman shook his head. “There is something in that vault. I don’t know what. It’s wrong.”

Jack wondered as he descended the ladder. Firefighters had to be cool-headed. Superstitious was possible. Thoughts he put aside as he made his way through the remaining debris. The immediate question was how it survived the blast. When he finally saw it, he knew. It was a type of space vault used in places without gravity or atmospheres. A technology that shouldn’t have been on Earth. It wasn’t protecting anything from space, which suggested it was containing something.

He opened his wrist-strap. The readings were strange. Whatever disrupted electronics was also blocking the scan. Then he heard a cracking sound. The new scan results had him backing away. The firefighter might have been superstitious, but he wasn’t wrong.

Jack tapped his ear piece as he reached the ladder. “Gwen, tell the firefighters to fill the hole around the vault with whatever debris they can. They need to do it now.”

Jack was barely free before the first truck filled with previously cleared material emptied it into the hole. The ground rumbled briefly but stopped after three truck loads.

Jack flipped open with his wrist strap. “John Hart.”

“What?” John demanded.

“Why is there a clockwork god in a vault in Liverpool?”

John hesitated. “That isn’t possible.”

“I’m sending the readings.”

“No. No one is that insane.”

 

**Hughes Flats; Cardiff, Wales**

Anwen Williams sat on the floor in her brother’s room watching him gleefully knock over a tower he just built. After the destruction, he plopped down next to the pile of blocks intent to rebuild. She couldn’t help but smile. Dad was worried about business. Mom and Uncle Jack were in Liverpool for Torchwood. Everyone was stressed. Except Trefor.

The feeling started as if someone was walking up behind her. She turned and of course no one was there. It increased with a buzzing sound followed by an anxious feeling. Then she sensed him. A tired, angry, motivated man. It wasn’t Rift energy, and not exactly like Uncle Jack and John.

Anwen opened her wrist-strap. Unlike the water at school, she knew it was real. “Jack Harkness.”

“Everything okay?” He wasn’t used to her contacting him.

“Someone opened a hole and entered Cardiff. I don’t have a better description. Not the Rift. Not a Time Agent. He has a time signature but the hole doesn’t.”

 

**Near Hughes Flats; Cardiff, Wales**

John Hart reviewed the reports from the mainframe searches. Blogs and Internet chatter connected the locations to a cult based in Nigeria and Moss-Probert. If he dismissed the conspiracies, crackpots and rumor-mongers, he had two sets of information. One sounded solid connecting the a Nigerian cult to Moss-Probert. Collecting psychics and establishing a based of operations in the old Torchwood stronghold early fit what he knew of Oliveira. The second set of information connected the cult to a variety of atrocities that contradicted everything he knew about Aman. It made him out to be a monster. John didn’t buy it.

He traced the source of questionable information to a Cardiff server. He reset the search to concentrate on information originating from that user. He than programmed it to sort by key words: Aman Oliveira, Nigeria, Fellowship of Inner Peace and Moss-Probert.

What immediately worried him was why. The first thought he had was Jack. He hadn’t met Aman yet, and wouldn’t know the information was bogus. But that would require someone knowing about their future connection. If someone who knew them was playing them, then his reaction to finding the information could easily be predicted. Even if the person didn’t know him, the question remained why. Unless someone wanted to restarted the conflict between Oliveira and Torchwood. That had no obvious point either. Trying to puzzle out the possibilities gave him a headache.

Keara sat forward on the sofa, started. She’d been napping. Nightmares weren’t surprising. “The Prophet is here.”

That couldn’t be good.


	9. Chapter 9

**Torchwood London, 204** 2

General Trefor Williams often wondered about the older woman’s intentions. Keara Montfort came to Torchwood from the Kenya psychic refuge with Miriam. From what he’d been told, she’d had a rough life. The scars on her hands and forearms told him that much.

She approached after he left Anwen in the stables and fell into step beside him. They walked along the edge of the duck pond. Whatever she wanted to tell him, she was still working out in her head. Or at least that’s what he gathered from her body language.

“The war is lost. Nothing can be done now.” A few more minutes passed before she spoke again. “The only way to win is to prevent it.”

“Change time?”

“Yes.” Keara stopped and sighed. “We have to research what went wrong and affect key events.”

“How do you know?”

Keara paused. “How much do you know about time, time lines and parallel universes?”

“Some.”

“We’re heading toward a point of no return. I know this because I interacted with another version of myself. Her time line is gone and she wandered into ours. Without planning or research, she’s been trying to prevent the destruction of the human race.”

“How much time do we have?”

Keara shook her head. “I don’t know. But we need to learn from her mistakes.” She pause. “We need to find someone who can move through time safely. Knowledge, experience and genetically able to handle it.”

“You don’t mean Jack.” If she had, she’d have approached him.

“No. He’s not the only former time agent.”

Trefor had no idea what she had in mind. From what his father said, there were seven time agents left thirty years ago. The only other one he’d heard visited Earth was a psychopath.

“Captain John Hart meets the criteria. Knowledge, experience, adapted. He’s easily bribed.” She shrugged. “No one will care if he doesn’t survive.”

“He’s crazy. A mentally unstable, multiple addict. He enjoys killing people.”

“Controlling him is basic,” Keara emphasized. “It requires knowing what motivates him: money, hedonism and an underlying need to be needed.”

“Insanity aside, how would we recruit him?”

“Use his wrist-strap to target him in time and drag him to a specialized chamber.”

“Abduct him? Abduct a homicidal time expert?”

“That’s the hard part. Bribing him is simple. We have boxes of future currency. They’re more valuable than diamonds. One of them and he could live like a king for weeks. Offer him two and pretend you don’t know they’re actual value.”

“How much of this is guess work?”

“None.” Keara assured. “The device can and will be built. It will work. Success comes down to researching it.”

“What’s the problem?”

“Miriam won’t help us if she knows the truth. She would figure it out at some point.”

 

**Moss-Probert Office; Cardiff, Wales**

**Thursday, September 15, 2019**

Maurice Bordeau had reservations about the situation. The carefully planned details unravaled. The unexpected explosions were one more complication requiring extensive brainstorming. Most of the remaining Moss-Probert organization didn’t know the connection among the religious offices nevertheless to them. One of many secrets he needed to keep. Which translated to being unable to delegate planning or work.

“When is the next ship arriving?”

The first time Liberty Dowsett mentioned aliens, he’d thought she was crazy. Even with The Doctor and Torchwood situations making the news, he hadn’t thought it possible. She proved it by demonstrating incredible technology. Her explanation for being able to make contact was fabricated. It made him question everything she’d told him.

“Friday.” Dowsett looked too calm, in his estimate.

“Are they prepared for what happened to the last one?” Instead of the previous scheduled delivery, they received a message that the ship had been destroyed inside the Rift. it didn’t include an explanation. Which added to his growing concern.

“Yes.”

Maurice nodded. “Do we know who attacked the religious group?”

“The Prophet,” she said, finding the title as ridiculous as he did, “Has an in-house problem. The man behind the attacks is reportedly dead. He committed suicide.”

“Colin Doyle? The police are investigating that as a probable homicide. Torchwood is involved.”

Dowsett made an unhappy noise. “I was assured they didn’t kill him.”

“There is also concern about the Liverpool location. Torchwood had the fire department fill in the basement with random debris. No one knows why.”

“No idea.” Except she did know. They met twenty years earlier. He didn’t understand her, but he could tell when she was lying. Which meant something was very wrong.

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Mae’r Chwaer Hyll; Cardiff, Wales**

Jack Harkness entered the familiar pub with Ianto. They needed a quiet night. The cult situation was a ticking time bomb. The weapon of planetary mass destruction was contained for the moment under as much debris as the Liverpool fire department could manage. The firefighters even found broken concrete to pile on top. Anwen reported someone using a portal device and Torchwood confirmed it.

“I’ll get menus.” Ianto headed for the bar. He sounded like he was feeling better. That was something at least.

Jack claimed the same table where he’d met John a couple months earlier. He placed his back to the wall and viewed the entire room. No obvious concerns.

Then a man wearing a black t-shirt, jeans and dusty boots entered the pub and headed straight for him. He looked South American, probably Brazilian. “Jack.” He sat across from him. “This is very strange.” His accent was mixed, but sounded closer to South African. “Twenty years and there is no recognition.”

“Aman Oliveira?” Jack asked.

“Yes.”

“Why are you here?” If what John said was true, the other man had him at a disadvantage.

“To correct an injustice.”

“The injustice includes a clockwork god?”

“Excuse me?” Oliveira looked genuinely confused. Without knowing him, it was hard to be sure.

“The Liverpool vault. There is an ancient, alien device capable of destroying the solar system.”

That seemed to add to the confusion. “This is one of Captain Hart’s stories?”

“No. I scanned it myself.”

“That is not possible.”

Jack motioned Ianto over. “In twenty years have I ever lied about a WMD?”

“No.”

“It has to be destroyed before it gets lose.”

“Where would such a device come from?”

Jack had wondered that himself. “The alien race that tried to send a warship through the Rift a couple months ago.”

“Tried?” That confused him more. “Anwen is already in control of the Rift?”

“Torchwood destroyed it.”

Oliveira’s expression said _do I look stupid_. “The last time Torchwood opened the Rift, a demon emerged.” He paused. “You would not risk it.”

Ianto handed Jack the menus and stood next to him.

“What injustice are you here to correct?”

“I did what needed to be done,” Oliveira justified. “The self-righteous head of global would not tolerate what she perceived as a threat to her authority.”

“And General Williams?”

“You have been discussing the future with Hart?”

“He mentioned a fist fight.”

“Not me.” Oliveira trailed off while watching his expression. “You had a fist fight with General Williams? Over what?”

“You.”

Oliveira laughed. “Hart did not explain your connection?”

“No.”

“General Williams is your son. Physically, he is your twin. More tactics. Less rogue.” Oliveira was amused. “The Torchwood Space Fleet uniforms are based on the World War II RAF.” He smiled. “You did not physically fight with Trefor Williams.”

“What do you want?”

Oliviera narrowed his eyes and laced his hands together on the table. “An understanding. I don’t know what Hart said about me, or even why you would believe him. My conflict with Torchwood was ideology.”

“You want an army?”

“Torchwood was losing, Jack.” He sighed. “Corporations created armies and were destroying the planet. They fought each other. They invited aliens here that Torchwood had to fight off. Is that the world you want?” Oliveira took a moment to compose himself. “If I wanted power, I could have it. With what I know of my father’s business, I could move in and take over before he gets himself killed. I know enough about organized crime in Africa, I could wage a bloody war of domination and win.” He shook his head. “What I want is to give Torchwood a chance to save the world before it’s too late.”

Oliveira stood. “Ask Hart how many Torchwood foot soldiers died in 2049.”

Jack watched him leave wondering how much of what Olivera said was true. He could ask John, but he wasn’t sure he could believe him either.

Ianto sat after Oliveira left. “He doesn’t hate you.”

“No.” Jack explained to Ianto what he missed.

“Which one of your psychotic exes do you believe?”

Jack smiled. “Jealous?”

“Of the one who tried to blow up Cardiff or the one who wants to destroy the world?” Ianto shook his head slightly. “Dating you is never boring. Insane, but not boring.”

Jack reached across the table and set a hand over Ianto’s.

 

Aman Oliviera stepped out of the bar. Seeing Jack hurt. Whatever he expected, it was not Ianto Jones. Jack probably thought Anwen returned him as some kind gesture. Oliveira suspected it had more to do with him. She wanted to prevent their relationship. Or maybe, she expected him to kill the competition. That was something Jack would not forgive. Nor recover from. A ridiculous situation for another day.

Liverpool was the priority.


	11. Chapter 11

**Torchwood Three; Cardiff, Wales**

**Friday, September 20, 2019**

“The Antarctic Observatory in the Falkland Islands is active,” Ianto Jones sat on the edge of Jack’s desk with his back to the door holding his tablet. “Donnell Woodside sent a copy of his transfer orders. London assigned him for six months. When London fell, he had no replacement.” Ianto paused a moment. “He’s been there too long.”

“Does he have London’s records?” Jack asked.

“Yep.”

Gwen stood between the door and the desk. “But?”

“He insists the order has to come from London.”

Jack set a hand on Ianto’s knee. “Can we remote access it?”

“Yes and no.” Ianto smiled weakly. “It requires someone with command authorization.”

“Who?”

“Anwen. Her profile lists her as Head of Torchwood Global. A glitch. John Hart caused it when he remote-accessed Torchwood for the location of the safe haven for psychics in Kenya.”

“Can someone explain my daughter’s connection to Hart?”

“If we can believe John, he was recruited when a general associated with Torchwood abducted him and bribed him with currency that came through the Rift. He worked for Torchwood for years.”

“I have a theory.” Ianto knew it wouldn’t go over well. “Anwen likes cowboys. She idolizes her Uncle Jack and thinks James Bond has nothing on Time Agents. She knows the basics of what John did and has accepted he changed.” Ianto gave it a moment. “John knows about Anwen’s connection to the Rift and it’s downside. A weakness she wouldn’t share with someone she paid to run errands.”

“No,” Gwen onjected.

“It’s plausible,” Jack countered.

Gwen shook her head. “She’s a little girl.”

“John talks about 2049,” Jack countered. “Anwen will be forty.”

“Anwen and I need to talk about boys.”

Jack laughed.

 

“What do you need me to do?” Anwen Williams entered the tourist office as her mother held open the door.

“Jack needs computer control. There’s a glitch.”

“I accidentally gave myself control of Torchwood?” Anwen doubted it. The wrist-strap appeared to be malfunctioning to begin with. If she had control of the hub, there was a reason for it.

“A system malfunction.”

Yeah, right. “Why can’t Uncle Jack fix it?”

“He only thinks he’s can fix everything.”

Anwen laughed. That much was true. Her uncle had no confidence problems.

The big door slid open revealing the hub she’d heard so much about, usually while eavesdropping. “Did it come with turtles?”

“What?”

“It’s a sewer. Did it come with mutant turtles?”

Gwen shook her head slightly.

“Your decorating is awful,” Anwen said as her uncle came down the stairs. “What do you call this? Sewer chic?”

There was something about Uncle Jack’s expression.

“What?” Anwen wondered what she did.

“It’s been called that before.”

She suddenly wondered if it had something to do with John. Whatever happened between him and her uncle was bad. Worse than the stories she had heard. “What do I do?”

“Chose a computer.”

Anwen sat at a workstation and opened her wrist-strap. The computer recognized her and her Torchwood Global profile appeared on the screen.

Jack walked over and reached for the keyboard. The computer screen changed.

“Talk me through it.” Anwen couldn’t help but think she was right. It wasn’t a malfunction. She could only guess that meant her future self wanted to prevent Jack from doing something.

Three tries later, Anwen sat back. “I don’t think this will work.”

 

Anwen sat with a Kindle on the floor in the corner of the conference room. She’d overheard some of the problem. The glitch happened after John accessed the hub for information. Her uncle and mom were discussing whether it was somehow intentional. There was one person who might know that.

The only thing she could imagine doing differently than Jack involved John. Jack would remove his access from Torchwood the first chance he got. She wouldn’t.

She flipped open her wrist-strap. “John Hart.”

“Hey, darling.” He didn’t sound good.

“I need to ask something,” Anwen said. “Do you have any idea why your remote Torchwood access triggered a computer glitch?”

John sighed. “How are you involved?”

“Mom and Uncle Jack brought me in to fix it. The computer won’t let me.”

“They can try setting up a separate system. Name it Torchwood London. Use it to remote authorize Jack for Torchwood Three.”

“Okay.” Anwen hesitated. “What’s wrong? And don’t give me the ‘I won’t understand’ speech. You sound depressed. You need to talk to someone.”

John hesitated. “Loneliness and guilt.”

“Why guilt?”

“I made a promise I can’t keep. Its irrational. But…”

“Emotional,” Anwen concluded. “Mom’s job forces her to suddenly change plans. She doesn’t make promises because if an alien amoeba attacks Parliament on my birthday, she’s going to miss the party.”

“Alien amoebas.” That must of reminded him of something amusing. “I made a promise to someone whose gone.”

“Would she blame you for it?” Anwen had an idea what the problem was. She wished John could talk to Jack as he had experience dealing with time, loss and impossible situations.

“No.”

“Then forgive yourself.”

“Shouldn’t you be playing with dolls and swooning over boys?”

“I’m in a super secret lair. Mom and Uncle Jack save the world on a regular basis. And I’m talking to a time traveling cowboy. Who has time for dolls and boys?”

John laughed.


	12. Chapter 12

**Psychic Refuge; Rural Kenya**

John’s call surprised her. Miriam Morgans assumed if he contacted her, it would be for a personal favor. She owed him for saving Thomas’ life. He was a broken, recovering junkie futilely seeking redemption. The help finding the Refuge had more to do with self-preservation than compassion. He was afraid of her. When he provided information for contacting Torchwood, she assumed he had selfish motivation. If she asked for his help, he would ask for more favors.

None of which explained Keara Montfort. There was nothing in it for him. Which left Miriam wondering if he knew Keara from the future also. That offered a whole different set of possibilities. Including the minute chance he had altruistic motives making the arrangements. More likely, she’d missed something.

Waiting gave her to much time to think. When the flight finally landed, and the passengers headed for the luggage, she was relieved. She held a picture of Keara John sent. Another of his odd considerations. Even without it, Miriam would have recognized the nervous teenager. She looked lost and terrified.

She approached slowly. “Hi. I’m Miriam Morgans. We talked on the phone.”

Keara nodded.

“We need to get going,” Miriam said. “Are you afraid of me?”

Keara kept her eyes on the floor. “My friend Colin, before he died, told me about John.”

Miriam could understand the confusion. “He’s on a redemption kick. When he falls off the wagon, he’ll be back to whatever he was doing before he sobered up.” Although she wondered if that assessment was accurate. An easily manipulated psychic could be useful. The Refuge founders readily accepted Keara because they said she was powerful. If John knew her from future, he knew that.

“Why are you helping me?” Keara sounded lost.

“You didn’t ask why he sent you here?”

Keara hesitated before lowering her voice. “John said there is a safe place for psychics.”

“It’s part of a private animal sanctuary. Its peaceful. Except for poachers. They volunteer for target practice.”

“We’re nowhere near Nigeria, right?”

“No.” Miriam met Keara’s eyes. “John mentioned Aman Oliveira. If he comes looking, he’s a dead man.”

 

**Liverpool, England**

Aman Oliveira arranged to meet with Maurice Bordeau. The ethically-challenged businessman enjoyed finding additional opportunities to make money. His loyalty to Moss-Probert was based entirely on how the employment arrangement benefited him. Which made the man useful for short-term information and a long-term liability.

“Why are we meeting here?” Bordeau asked.

The out-of-the-way area meant few people and easier controlled circumstances. “Necessity.”

“Damn inconvenient.”

Aman thought the same of the man’s whining. “Did you bring the information?”

Bordeau removed an external hard drive from his pocket. “I can’t decide if Liberty is playing two alien races against each other, or if she’s done something much worse.”

“Why?”

“She made conflicting agreements. Exclusive mining rights.”

“In exchange for?”

“Military support and entry into the galactic community.”

Either Moss-Probert’s offenses were not as extensively documented in the future or something major changed their course. If Ms. Dowsett was seemingly acting against her own best interest, she might not be who she claimed to be. A war between two civilizations with more advanced technology wasn’t beneficial for Earth. The device Jack described would be an impressive land mine against multiple military forces. He needed more information.

Oliveira handed over a pounch of diamonds.

Bordeau hesitated. “I asked her about the vault. She lied.”

Even weasels could suprise him. If Dowsett knew what was in the vault, Aman suspected she was responsible for it being there.

 

**Moss-Probert Office; Cardiff, Wales**

Liberty Dowsett reviewed the situation. Defeating the 2049 version of Anwen Williams proved more complicated than expected. They were missing details. After extensive research, her people were confident they knew everything about the situation. Her assignment was long-term infiltration with the ultimate goal of preventing Williams from founding Torchwood Global. Everything should have gone as planned.

Torchwood 2049 failed to secure their details. Her people accessed them. Aman Oliveira accessed them. It looked like a judgement error at the time. An assumption she’d been reassessing for months.

She also suspected someone was actively manipulating everyone involved. The amount of knowledge and foresight suggested a powerful psychic. Torchwoods’ most talented pre-cog died years before Williams implemented her plan. Even if Montfort’s death was faked, there was nothing to indicate the woman was capable of wide scale temporal manipulation. The ideas was far-fetched, but there were too many coincidences and complications to dismiss.

Percy Heitt’s clumsy attempt to abduct Anwen and Trefor Williams created unexpected problems. Heitt unleashed a creature that should have destroyed half the city. John Hart made introductory amends with Torchwood by helping Anwen figure out how to control her ability and take control of the Rift. While she could accept that Heitt was that stupid, the end result defied the odds.

The situation with Aman Oliveira was equally problematic. One of his brainwashed psychics suddenly broke free, escaped and undermined his organization in Great Britain. The man sounded unstable. Somehow after his death, Doyle managed to blow up three buildings and release a nonsensical manifesto to the media. Bordeau located a constable who had seen the man’s flat. Doyle appeared to be a schizophrenic obsessed with Captain Harkness. Which fit the manifestos but nothing else.

It was the destruction of the first ship that convinced her there was someone manipulating everything from the shadows. There was no way ten year-old Anwen Williams could destroy a ship that soon after learning about her ability. Not without help. Even if John Hart understood how the ability worked, and she doubted it, Anwen needed more experience manipulating the Rift. Which heavily suggested her ability was being modified or manipulated by an item or a person. John Hart and Aman Oliveira couldn’t be the only people Williams sent back in time.

The question was how to find a psychic capable of incredible manipulation. There had to be a weakness. The answer was beyond her. She packed the information she knew and encoded it. She would send it back with the next ship.


	13. Chapter 13

**Psychic Refuge; Rural Kenya**

Keara Montfort felt lost long before she reached Kenya. A part of her wished she’d stayed in Nigeria. She doubted Colin was right about the Prophet. The situation in Cardiff and Great Britain was real. She knew that much for sure. But the Prophet wasn’t a monster.

At sixteen years old, she was living a nightmare. She was being sold. It didn’t take much to imagine what would happen afterwards. She’d heard other girls say virgins went for the most money. Varied cultural ideas on the benefit of raping the inexperienced. Then she’d seen him. A tall, powerful man, that everyone noticed.

He bought her, two younger girls and a guy in his twenties. She seen how the other buyers behaved. Something about the Prophet was different. He spoke softly, kept his hands to himself and guided them to a waiting vehicle. Despite being sold like a cow at auction, she felt safe with him.

Two years later, she fled the Fellowship with Colin and betrayed him. He’d saved her. He’d given her a home and a kind of family. A vision sent her with Colin, and she regreted it. An increasing dread had her thinking her actions resulted in his death.

It was too late. There was nothing more she could do but follow the path she started. The Prophet often said it was important to do what was right no matter the consequences. Leaving with Colin hadn’t been right. But contacting Torchwood was.

With tear stained eyes, Keara approached Thomas. She didn’t know where Miriam was. The tall, Indian man turned to look at her. His hoodie and baggie clothes didn’t completely hide his cybernetics. Her looked like a futuristic soldier from a movie.

“It’s Thomas?”

“Yes, ma’am.” His accent was obvious.

“I need to make a call.” Tears were threatening again. She needed to keep herself together.

“Why?”

“I don’t think you’ll believe me.”

“Ma’am, I have an alien metal exoskeleton.” He smiled. “Try me.”

“There is a ship approaching a rift in time and space above Cardiff. A person, a girl, is going to try and prevent it from getting through. It’s prepared.” The tears welled. “There is a device in Liverpool. This monstrous, evil thing.” She paused. “When the ship forces its way through the Rift, the energy will cause the equivalent of an earthquake. It’s going to get out and kill us all.”

 

**Torchwood Three; Cardiff, Wales**

Anwen Williams felt confident leaving the conference room. She had a solution. It lasted until she approached the main floor.

Ianto was seated at a computer console. Jack walked up behind him and set a hand on his shoulder.

“We might be looking at this wrong,” Ianto said. “Woodside wants confirmation from London. The computer glitch is listing Anwen as the head of Torchwood London. We need to recreate London.” He paused. “We have an impressive mainframe in storage. One of the differences between the old hub and the new hub.”

“If it became London, Anwen would have command access on a secured network and could remotely authorize me,” Jack said.

“Woodside would receive a direct request from London with authorization.” Ianto set his hand on Jack’s. “You’re distracting.”

Anwen overheard the conversation and returned to the conference room and her corner. They didn’t need her help. She felt stupid. Ten year-olds only helped in movies for kids. She should be playing with dolls and listening to silly music. Not involving herself. Uncle Jack, Ianto and her mom had been saving the world for a long time.

Sitting in the quiet, staring at the Kindle that didn’t interest her, she suddenly understood what John was going through. He was only needed, and included, when there was no other option. Her usefulness was in the future. John’s was in the past.

 

**Moss-Probert Office**

Liberty Dowsett sat in a dusty archive room reviewing paper files. She checked her watch: 4 PM. As she closed another manila folder, the lights went out. Annoyed, she reached for her mobile. She had no bars underground. Instead she used it for an impromptu flashlight.

Halfway to the stairwell, she heard footsteps. The sound stopped when she did. The disguise affected her natural adaption to the dark. Then she smelled it. A familiar odor that made her heart race. John was not the only one of Anwen’s minions to seek refuge in the past. She reached for her emergency button and something hit her back. Pain ripped through her as the disguise was removed. The attacker knew what she really was.

 

“Who found it?” Gwen Copperasked.

Andy Davidson still looked green. “Alexis VanBramer, a secretary looking for Ms. Libery Dowsett.” He hesitated. “She was incoherent when I arrived. The ambulance arrived a few minutes later.”

“Did she say anything?”

“The clothing in or on whatever,” Andy trailed off, “Is what Ms. Dowsett was wearing today.” Andy put his hand to his mouth.

Gwen walked downstairs to join Jack. The smell was awful. Jack was crouched next to a pile of gray-green goo. She stopped several feet away. “What is it?”

“An alien capable of assuming the shape of other creatures using technology that only works on them.” Jack stood. “She, most likely, was attacked by someone who knew what she was. The attacker destabilized the human form.”

 

**Torchwood Three**

Ianto Jones sat at Jack’s desk reading computer instructions for setting up the mainframe in storage. He wasn’t confident he could manage it as he took notes.

The desk phone rang. “Hello.”

“Uh. My name is Keara Montfort. I saw something.” She hesitated. “I need to speak with someone. Does John work out of your office?”

“John who?” Although Ianto figured he already knew.

“Hart. John Hart.”

“No. Can I help you with something?”

“I… uh…” Keara explained her vision.

Working for Torchwood had its moments. Psychics, aliens and clockwork monsters. “Do you have a number where we can reach you?”

“I… I can’t.”

“Can I ask how you know John Hart?”

She hesitated. “I was scared the Prophet would find me. Captain Hart helped me escape.”

“Aman Oliveira?”

“Yes.” The call ended.

Ianto called Jack on his mobile and quickly explained. “John remotely accessed Torchwood for information on a psychic refuge in Kenya.”

“Stay with Anwen. If she senses anything, call immediately.”

 

**St. David’s Dewi Sant Mall**

After finding out John was in town to stay, Jack Harkness used the hub to track him, in case they needed to find him. The mall was unexpected. Shopping was possible. “Disney?” Jack walked up next to John.

“Waiting for a friend. He works there.”

“I need information.”

John sighed, exasperated. “Try the Internet.”

Jack explained Keara’s prediction. “You told her you work for Torchwood?”

“No. I told Miriam Morgans that.”

“Your duties include rescuing psychics?”

“Unusual circumstances.”

“Is Keara reliable?”

“She will be. From what she told me when I knew her, something changed her past.”

Jack explained about the alien remains.

“Not me.”

“Oliveira?”

John shrugged. “He knows how.”

“I need more information,” Jack insisted.

A man in his twenties stepped out of the store and hesitated before approaching.

“Ken, this is Jack. He’s an associate.”

Ken offered his hand. They shook. “You work in security?”

“Yeah.”

“Is there a problem?” Ken asked.

“Work dispute. I don’t want to consult.”

Exasperated, Jack watched them walk away.

“Ex?” Ken asked.

He was to far away to hear John’s response.


	14. Chapter 14

**Hughes Flats; Cardiff, Wales**

Anwen followed her mother into the building. She still felt stupid trying to fix the problem. John was right. She didn’t understand. Her connection to the Rift made her feel powerful and confident. It was a dangerous illusion.

The feeling started as they approached the lift. A buzzing sound in the back of her mind. Another ship was in the Rift. A bigger ship. Anwen dropped her knees. She could sense her mother hovering over her. There was something different about this ship. The engines were shielded. The new energy shimmered with an icky glow.

Anwen opened her eyes, the tingling there but not as bad as before. “We have a problem.”

She could hear her mother talking to Jack. But Uncle Jack didn’t know how her ability worked. Trying to move while connected to the Rift was surreal. Her hand didn’t feel connected. A few tries later, she had her wrist-strap open. “John Hart.”

“Hey.”

“How do I stop a ship in the Rift that’s blocking me?”

“Explain.”

“There’s a big, alien ship trying to come through the Rift. I can stall it, but I can’t destroy it.”

John hesitated. “I have an idea. Hold on.”

 

**St. David’s Dewi Sant Mall**

“What?” Jack Harkness responded to his wrist com chiming.

John replied, “Anwen claims there is another ship in the Rift.”

“I know.”

“You need to disrupt the ship’s defense against Anwen. An energy device or a bomb.”

Jack had a crazy idea. “Do you have a portable device? To travel between cities.”

“Yeah.”

“I need it.”

John said, “I’m at my place.”

“Meet at the building. Anwen and Gwen are there.”

The alien ship was a possible blessing.

 

**Hughes Flats**

John Hart arrived first and scanned the building. Anwen was with Gwen on the first floor. He let himself in the back door.

“That’s John,” he heard Anwen say. She sounded worse.

John kept his hands in front of him. He hadn’t had to deal with Gwen in the future; she’d died as a result of something Moss-Probert did. It didn’t stop him from thinking that if things turned out differently, she would have been his mother-in-law. Which somehow made the entire situation weirder.

“You should have knocked,” Gwen declared.

“How’s Anwen?”

That defused some of it. Whatever issues he’d had with Gwen, she loved her daughter. “I don’t know.”

John crouched down a few feet from where Anwen slouched against the hallway wall. “Are you warm?”

“No.”

“Your uncle has an idea. You just need to hold on.”

“I can feel the universe.”

“Can I talk to you?” Gwen said.

Which sounded ominous. John followed her down the hall.

“What do you want from my daughter?”

De ja vu. He’d had a similar conversation with both Jack and Trefor. “Nothing.”

“She’s ten years old.”

He wondered what he was missing. “Yeah.”

“You claimed to be her boyfriend in the future.”

John wasn’t sure what to say to that. He hadn’t claimed to be anything. He’d made the movie reference to Anwen. “I knew a version of your daughter before she changed time. The woman I knew as Anwen ceased to exist.”

“Whatever was between you cease to exist.”

John closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “Is there a point to this?”

“I don’t want you fixated on my child.”

John opened his eyes and met Gwen’s gaze. “I love a woman who no longer exists. She knew exactly who and what I was. She didn’t care. The circumstances that led to her caring about me can never be repeated. She sacrificed herself to save selfish people who brought on their own destruction. I am alone on this godforsaken planet to keep a promise to a woman who chose it over me.” Tears welled in his eyes.

He removed the portal device from his pocket and shoved it at her. “I want nothing from ‘your ten year-old.’ Or you or Jack or Torchwood. I don’t care if aliens blow up the planet.”

John headed for the back door.

 

When Jack found Gwen and Anwen in the hallway, he knew something had happened. She handed him a device.

“Where’s John?”

“He left.”

Jack knew there was more to it, but it would have to wait. “I will call from Liverpool.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Leveled Block; Liverpool, England**

The device was mildly disorienting. Jack Harkness wondered if he’d used it correctly. At least he arrived where he intended; a block from the destruction area. He sent Gwen a text message and started walking.

A figure stood near the rubble. He recognized Aman Oliveira in the dim light.

“What are you doing?”

“Seismic readings,” Oliveira said without looking up.

“According to a psychic, if it’s shook, it’ll escape.”

Oliveira looked at him. “Keara?”

“Would it make a difference?”

“It might. What does she predict will happen?”

“World destruction,” Jack said.

He crossed his arms. “Why are you here?”

“There is an alien warship in the Rift. We don’t have a lot of options.”

Oliveira laughed. “And I am the crazy one.”

“Do you have a better idea?”

“No.”

Using his wrist-strap, he reprogrammed the portal device to transport the clockwork god. He hadn’t been sure it would work. Ten minutes later, he was ready. He hoped the connection survived entry into the Rift, there weren’t a lot of options for destroying the clockwork god. It had to be destabilized at the quantum level. The portal device might work and it might cause other problems.

Jack called Gwen as he walked away from Oliveira. They needed to coordinate. “Are you ready?”

“I don’t know.” Gwen was worried.

“How’s she doing?”

“Not good.”

“Put me on speaker,” Jack said.

“Done.”

“Anwen, can you hear me?”

“The universe glows.” She sounded high.

“I’m going to teleport a weapon into the Rift. It will destroy the ship.”

“Good.”

Jack emphasized, “I need to know what happens to the weapon after that.”

“It will find peace.”

“Are you ready?”

“Hurry.”

 

**Hughes Flats**

The Rift energy changed. The evil weapon entered the Rift. An impossible creature made of gears. The warship tried to flee. There was nothing it could do. The gears shifted and spun creating a web of energy around the ship. The pressure increased, crushing it. Anwen used the new energy, and the Rift, to fill the negative space around the gears. The weapon wasn’t sentient, and couldn’t out think her. It screamed a horrible sound like scraping metal and ceased to exist.

“I killed it.” She felt so warm. Something wet on her lip felt like a nose bleed.

“Medical emergency,” the wrist-strap announced.

Mum was hovering. Anwen could hear her but she couldn’t understand.

The she felt another person, a man. She tried calling out to her mother, but she couldn’t talk. Unable to physically do anything, she wondered if she could use her connection to the Rift instead. She focused on him. She didn’t have the strength to throw him in the Rift. But she had energy.

The hallway glowed as she focused energy at the man. The last thing she heard was him scream.

 

**Leveled Block; Liverpool, England**

“Gwen?” Jack asked, hearing the scream.

The called disconnected. Jack attempted to call her three time, but it went straight to voicemail. He checked the transport device. Sending the clockwork god into the Rift damaged it. There was nothing he could do.

“What happened?” Oliveira walked over to him.

“Something went wrong.” Jack wasn’t sure who to call. Ianto couldn’t handle emergencies. Rhys would flip out. He didn’t want to call John.

“My device works. I can take you back.”

Jack looked at Aman.

“Twenty years, Jack. I know about Gwen. I know you love her.”

Before he could respond, Oliveira grabbed him around the waist. A portal opened and Olveira pulled him through.

 

**Coffi Chwerthinllyd; Cardiff, Wales**

Felda Eirmann sat across from the strange woman, wondering if she’d made the right decision. Keara offered a lot of money for a variety for unusual projects, including Colin’s vendetta. Working felt good, even if it was questionable. She needed both the challenge and the money. Brexit made finding either difficult.

She knew next to nothing about Keara. Not where she came from or what motivated her. A quick estimate placed her age between thirty and thirty-five. She originally assumed Keara was former military. PTSD or similar psychological problems could explain how the woman went from composed and articulate to dissociated in a matter of moments. She had a few contacts but could find no evidence she served.

Politics had been the original assumption. But Keara’s targets and goals were all over the place. The personal demons she was fighting were obvious, and probably what drove her.

What really confused her was Colin’s friend Keara. The young woman looked so much like the woman across from her. They had the same name. One of this Keara’s projects was hacking Moss-Probert, in general, and Liberty Dowsett specifically. The insane information read like science fiction except The Doctor, Torchwood and aliens really existed. Which suggested time travel might be possible. She tried not to think about it to much. But she wondered if the Kearas were somehow the same person.

“Explain this to me. How are we solving anything?” The woman told her the projects would change the future.

Keara focused on her with cold eyes. “We’re changing people.” She sounded distant. “Experience changes perception. Perception changes how they will react under any given circumstance.”

“What?”

“Give a man a fish and feed him for a day. Teach a man to fish and feed him for a lifetime.”


End file.
